


wasting is an art

by parishilton



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Frottage, Hate Sex, M/M, Public Sex, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 06:24:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parishilton/pseuds/parishilton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“you little prick.” nick takes both hands to louis’ shoulders and pushes right back. the next time louis shoves him nick’s got both hands on his jumper, working out if it’d be easier to haul louis up to kiss him or shove him to the floor and punch him. louis settles this by shoving nick so hard he flies back into his chair and climbs on top of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wasting is an art

nick is first and foremost attracted to harry when he first sees one direction - he's always been a fan of the x-factor. in fact, he loves all kinds of talent competition shows, if for no other reason than for the fact that he likes to laugh when the people who he doesn't like get eliminated, and cry when the people he does  _do_. the first time meeting the five of them, there are blinding lights everywhere. they're up on stage and, yeah, nick has the microphone, so he should be able to be heard and be able to hear. but for some reason the crowd cancels sound out completely until nick feels like he's watching a silent film.

they sit on the couch together as one complete unit - something that should look creepy in the way conjoined twins look posing together with missing limbs, but it looks completely natural on them. harry takes up the most room, legs spread open and wide on the couch while louis had one leg thrown over him on one side and zayn the same on the other. nick feels sort of like he's intruding when he leans over to them to push the mic into harry's face and ask him questions, but that's the reason he's here.

harry keeps grinning at him, and nick expects that mostly it's just joy that they've won something and gotten so much positive attention, but even after the show harry is bubbling with excitement and seems totally enamored by nick. of course it's a compliment,  _more_  than a compliment even. he's been reading up so much about the kid in magazines he feels like he should know what to say, but he  _doesn't_. nick isn't used to being stumped when chatting people up or even making polite conversation, wonders if harry would think he was far too presumptuous to assume he liked men although caroline's hinted as much.

by the time nick has worked up the perfectly constructed way of introducing himself in both a charming and casual way harry is being crowded by a drunk louis tomlinson, all jumpy limbs and slack face like his jaw is being pulled open by an imaginary dentist. harry all but keens when louis does some sort of teasing swipe across his sweaty forehead, trailing his fingers over harry's hairline.

nick figures maybe it just wasn't meant to be and moves on with his life. by moves on with his life, he means that he goes to the bar and orders something strong, beats himself up for at least not trying to pull some  _other_  guy, maybe even a different member of one direction. he laughs at himself, he's not interested in anyone but harry styles, not really. although his more possessive band mate looked rather interesting inebriated.

louis was a bit of a fifty-footer himself, wasn't he? even nick couldn't always be spotted as gay just out and about unless it was a special occasion and he felt like dressing up, making a right idiot of himself. nothing wrong with someone a little feminine, though, nick thinks. louis has fantastic cheekbones, sculpted like a french model's nick would expect to see walking at fashion week.

nevertheless, his opportunity has passed. why couldn't harry be like joe jonas, he wonders idly. he supposes the stereotype of slutty young boys in pop groups can't  _always_  hold true and pouts to himself. one day, he vows, one day.

-

time passes and nick somehow manages to weasel harry's number from some pr person or another who's in and out of the business. it's not hard to hang out with the kid, harry doesn't even ask how nick had gotten his number. nick is rather relieved, really. nobody likes to have  _that_ uncomfortable discussion.

caroline teases him day in and day out, not only because she knows harry only too well, but also because the age difference is really quite laughable. "not that you should be talking, dear," he'd muttered to her when she'd ask why he was spending so much time salivating over an eighteen year old.

she'd scoffed and muttered a warning. "pretty soon that boy will have a reputation to uphold, sleeping with people double his age."

"excuse you," nick had interrupted, "there's a  _nine_  year age gap. i'm not decrepit, you know." he's a bit fucking offended, he thinks rightfully so.

she shrugged. "you don't know that he'll fuck you anyway. why not try for one of the other boys?" she asked as if harry was a yankee swap party item that could be substituted easily for something else all together. "if harry had suggested correctly, none of them  _completely_  swing one way."

nick moans. "none of the others are nearly as attractive."

"tell that to harry," caroline vouched. "the boy worships the ground louis walks on, although you might be able to compete with that as of late." she winks.

nick frowns. "is there something going on there with louis?"

caroline made a face, "no idea. we didn't really spend much time talking about his band mates when we hung out."

nick recoils in disgust. "as if i want your used goods. maybe you're right. i'll go for tomlinson."

"oh, right. good luck with that one. he's pompous as fuck." she cackled all the while.

nick finds out for himself all too soon how spot on she had been.

-

nick interviews the boys again on a more intimate setting after months of becoming good friends with young harry styles, but after the four month mark things aren't looking up sex wise, and he realizes that maybe he waited too long. perhaps once you spent a certain amount of time with someone you got over how attractive they were and they were no longer an enigma. harry had ceased to stay a sex symbol with his long necklaces pouring over his indecently v-necked shirts and had become just as relevant to nick's sexual fantasies as matt fincham was.

during one particular interview, the boys are all pleasantly talkative, especially harry. the kid answers every question before any other boy can get a word in. nick does realize that that isn't exactly normal harry styles interview behavior, but he can easily chalk it up to harry trusting the interviewer for once.

however, not every member seems excited to be there. louis sits with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, face drawn with a dark expression for the entire half an hour they're there. every so often, upon harry getting a bit over-excited, louis will slump down a little in his seat. nick thinks that if louis were to make any noise, it would be a whine for harry's attention and he sort of wants to fuck with him a bit, so he does.

after the interview is over, he pulls harry off to the side and makes a nice show of tussling the kid's hair, pinching harry's cheeks while laughing as harry tries to squirm away. he makes sure to glance behind him at the other lads and only louis is really paying any attention. liam and niall are looking over the croissants and zayn is on the phone with someone, expression a little aggressive.

louis stands very still, fists curled tightly by the director's chair. nick starts to laugh towards his direction and harry quickly catches on. he gives nick a disapproving look.

"you don't want to spark his anger," he warns seriously. nick only laughs.

louis shakes his head when nick pushes harry back over to his friends so he can go to the loo. he doesn't turn around, but he can hear harry scolding louis for something even from a distance and isn't fussed at all that he's the reason for their arguing.

-

it's nick's fault (isn't it always?) that things get a lot more muddled than they needed to. nick supposes it could have been quite easy for him, in retrospect, just to let it go and stop trying to get a rise out of harry's territorial best mate. but for whatever the reason, nick decides it's far too amusing to stop.

he gets a ring on his phone early in the morning, so early nick is confused of who would really be awake by then to even bother calling him. it's an unknown number, but even when nick hears the voice on the other end, sharp and precise, he's still not catching on.

"we need to chat about something," the guy says dramatically. nick is just getting ready to drive into the studio to start the breakfast show. it's ridiculously early and nick wonders if this guy would had to have set an alarm just to be awake in time to catch nick before he got on the road.

" _who_  is this?" nick questions in a rough voice, throat dry from all night in bed.

the other person sighs in annoyance. "it's louis tomlinson."

_oh._

"what the fuck do you want to speak to me about?" nick asks, a bit worried. it's too early to be so concerned about the possibility of being murdered that day.

"yeah, okay, right." louis pauses like he's been born to play this role all his life, well rehearsed and ahead of the game. "how many things would you guess, really?" 

nick snorts. what was it about harry styles that made people want to protect him? "alright, i'm going in to work right now-"

"i'll meet you there before the show is over," louis insists and then the line goes dead. nick grumpily drops it to his bed sheets and hastily gets dressed, trying to decide what outfit louis tomlinson would find the least bit intimidating. he ends up going for a nice plaid shirt ironed out and black jeans.

with his luck louis will show up wearing fuck all dirty joggers and an ugly old jumper and nick will feel stupid for caring what he wears in front of the guy in the first place.

-

he doesn't know if he should be warning the department or not. when harry would come in everybody in the building would go absolutely bonkers, roping him in for hugs and trying to get high fives like the kid was buddha and if you touched him in the right spot all your wishes would come true. he sort of doesn't want to think about it, so he tries to calm himself down by playing chill records instead of aggressive hip hop. luckily that day is one of those few when it's between months and far away enough from all major holidays that half the team fucks off and lets nick do his thing with a little more freedom.

tina is upstairs doing her normal bland reporting and finchy is in another room separate from nick on his floor doing paperwork because the people who normally do that job aren't in. he guesses fincham's pissed, but if it stops him from telling nick what he can and can't do during office hours he's pleased with it.

louis comes in with only twenty minutes left to the show and nick is angry, wishes he'd just waited until it was over with. now he has to feel the guy's menacing gaze on him from across the room. but instead of sitting down and waiting for nick to finish up, louis walks right up to him.

nick sits in his rolling chair with his huge black headphones on, speaking into the microphone when louis comes up to him, rudely crossing his arms across his chest like he expects nick to drop everything.

"we're on  _air_ ," nick hisses. "can't this wait?" his hands cover up the mic as he waits for louis to answer.

"you are so _entitled_ ," louis spits. "think you can fuck around with people and then just move right along with your day. well, excuse me for-"

matt fincham looks up from his desk in the other room for the first time all day, craning his neck as he spots someone pointing and yelling at nick.

"alright, alright! jesus, shut the fuck up," nick hisses. his hand slips off from the mic and he presses his lips to it harshly, heart pounding. "alright, we're going to go to a record. this one is for rihanna, one of my personal idols." nick looks back up to louis and sighs. "what's so life threatening? run out of smaller people to frighten?"

louis rocks back and forth on his little feet, but somehow it still intimidates nick. for such a twink, the guy wears his resentment very openly and appears about two feet taller than he actually is. he's got a jumper on, mixed colors of red and pink. nick sputters from his seat, ashamed of how uncomfortable he actually is.

"i need you to stop fucking harry about," louis orders, arms still crossed tightly over his chest. his biceps are too big for the size of the jumper's sleeves and they envelope around him too tightly. nick tries to ignore how much it turns him on.

"i'm not fucking harry about," nick says in exasperation. "neither of us are interested in each other like that, alright?"

"you don't honestly expect me to believe that, do you?"

nick stands up, the back of his legs still touching his chair. he makes sure he gets right in louis' face. "you know what? it doesn't matter what you believe. i'm sure harry didn't send you and that should tell you everything."

“harry hasn't the ability to judge people’s characters as accurately as i do,” louis spits. “that’s why everyone loves him, you know. he  _wants_  to believe everyone has good intentions.” his pointer finger jabs nick right below his throat.

“you’re one to talk about  _good intentions_ ,” nick throws out, can’t believe this guy has the nerve. “he does everything you tell him to. if you told him to spit shine your shoes he would.”

“oh, fuck you.” louis twists his hand around the fabric of nick’s tee shirt, his plaid shirt left open and unbuttoned. “i’m one of the  _only_  people he knows who wouldn't take advantage of him.”

“oh, sure, sure.” nick nods along with himself, getting only angrier as he goes on. “you won’t take advantage of him, just anyone  _else_  who comes across your path.” he raises his eyebrows and lifts his hand to remove louis’ grip on his shirt.

louis snarls. “what business is it of your’s?”

“well, it is  _my_  studio you've just pranced into like you own the place to take time out of  _my_  day to harass me.”

louis moves in even closer, his knees knocking into nick’s legs. “are you really trying to tell me that you’re better qualified to be harry’s-” louis cuts himself off, shaking his head at himself. it’s the first time nick has seen him even the slightest bit unsure of himself. he revels in it.

“what?” nick questions with mock concern. “harry’s what? friend?” he steps closer to louis, tone vicious. “drill sergeant?” he slips his knee in between louis’ legs, wondering why he’s doing what he is. he wants to bite louis’ cheek. “lover?”

louis twists his face away from nick, eyes to matt fincham in the office across from them. fincham's not paying any attention. he must have come to the conclusion that nick had invited a friend by to entertain him and went back to his work. “don’t be so condescending.”

“oh, like you?” nick asks.

louis shoves nick backwards. he almost trips up and falls over, but he catches himself on the arm of his chair. he gives louis a look of complete surprise, mouth dropping open.

“you little prick.” nick takes both hands to louis’ shoulders and pushes right back. the next time louis shoves him nick’s got both hands on his jumper, working out if it’d be easier to haul louis up to kiss him or shove him to the floor and punch him. louis settles this by shoving nick so hard he flies back into his chair and climbs on top of him.

nick realizes the record is almost over and he’s going to need to change it soon, but louis’ legs are petite and firm on top of him and his jaw is clenched so hard nick thinks he may pull something. “you’re a menacing little thing,” nick says with a chuckle. louis swings at nick’s stomach so hard nick actually makes an  _oof_ noise out loud in the studio and flinches.

“are you calling me names, grimshaw?” louis asks, closing in on him, face so close nick’s eyesight goes blurry. his last name on louis’ tongue sounds wonderful, sharp as knives.

“yeah,” nick answers honestly. “you’re kind of an asshole.”

“that’s better,” louis dignifies. then, his hand clasps around nick’s chin and he yanks nick’s neck up to kiss him. he licks up nick’s teeth and his little hips push into nick’s stomach. nick wraps his arm around louis’ back and pulls him even closer, wishing louis’ legs could wrap around him. he knows his stubble must be scratching louis’ face and he’s suddenly glad he hadn't shaved that morning.

“i want to finger you,” nick says honestly. he hopes the mic is off. he’s pretty sure it is, but it’s things like these that make you think, sort of like when you leave your house last minute and question turning the oven off after making cookies.

louis gasps into his mouth when nick’s hand snakes down between them and presses on his dick. “no,” he hisses. “fuck you.”

“that was the idea, love, but you've just denounced it.” nick glances over to his mic again. the track has stopped. he fiddles around with the system, cursing technology. he’s got a horny louis tomlinson in his lap, pretty as a picture, taking harsh breaths and muttering obscenities. it’s times like these where he wishes his job involved less communication. he's supposed to be speaking to the listeners, not playing record after record, but how can he really be expected to care when tomlinson is so available. finchy is still within range of seeing them, although he’d never hear.

“wasn’t that a great track?” nick asks his listeners. he hopes his breathing doesn’t sound too labored. “usually this is the time for showbot to be introduced, but for the sake of inconsistency, here’s the latest from the vaccines.” he presses the buttons he needs to clumsily and then turns the mic back off. “we’ve got four minutes,” nick clarifies. “this song is about four minutes long.”

louis nods eagerly, shuffling up a little higher on top of nick, adjusting himself so his hips align better with nick’s. “hurry up, then.”

“prissy little bitch.” nick gets another punch for that, this time to his thigh. nick winces, but it’s easier to ignore this time with louis’ hand on his dick.

“shit,” nick mutters. “your pants look tight as fuck, how is that going to work?”

louis laughs. then, his face contorts. “oh, fuck.”

“not yet, sweetheart,” nick warns darkly. “we’ve still got three and a half minutes.”

louis grimaces. “no. oh, shit. oh shit.” he twists on nick’s lap, straining to position himself somehow else. “i have to piss. oh god, i have to piss. these pants are so tight.”

“what?” nick spits. “didn’t you  _notice_ before?”

“yes, but the drive in was so long and by the time i got here i forgot about it.” louis shifts over and over again, trying to situate himself. nick loves this, he looks so traumatized, embarrassing himself in front of his worst enemy. nick wants to laugh, but he’s afraid he’ll get a punch to the jaw. he tries to inconspicuously rest his hand on louis’ bladder to tease him, but louis catches on far too fast.

“fucker,” louis says, moving all around in nick’s lap, making nick’s dick become even more interested. “that’s not funny. i need to get up. is there a loo down here?”

“no,” nick answers honestly. “the loo, the kitchen, everything’s upstairs.” he draws his arms so they wrap the entire way around louis’ small waist, effectively trapping him.

“grimshaw,” louis warns, voice straining. “let me the fuck go.”

nick clears his throat softly. “two and a half minutes. just go with it.”

louis’ lip turns up in disgust. “you’re  _vile_. if you don’t let me up you’re going to have piss all over you and then you’ll regret it.”

nick licks his lips. “no, love, that’s what i mean. just  _go_ with it.”

louis stops squirming around, eyebrows cinching. “ _what_?”

“c’mon,” nick whispers. he pulls louis in so their chests press together, arms winding tight around louis’ waist like a snake closing in on it’s prey. he knows he’s making it harder and harder for louis to hold back.

louis keeps groaning, trying to pull himself back, but he can’t move more than a couple inches. finally, nick gently pulls louis in by his back so his face presses into nick’s neck. louis sounds like he wants to cry, but he’ll never let himself look so vulnerable  “no, oh no.” he keeps repeating himself, little sputters against nick’s skin.

nick quiets him, hips involuntarily snapping up into louis’. “hush,” he says softly into louis’ ear. “you can do it, go ahead.” louis is still rutting towards nick, breathing erratically. nick takes one hand to louis’ hip to press him down to increase the friction and the other to louis’ bladder again. louis whines in his ear, almost a hiccup. his fists clench behind nick’s shoulders as he tries uselessly to pull back.

“c’mon,” nick repeats softly, “it’s alright, don’t be silly. everything will be just fine.” he doesn't know if louis is really getting the picture. “go ahead, let go.”

louis’ nose rubs against nick’s neck, his arms shaking around nick’s shoulders. finally, with nick cooing into his ear, he pisses. with a sob, there’s something wet and warm spreading from his lap to nick’s and nick lets off of his bladder and winds his arm around louis’ waist, coaxes him through it.

“there, there, love. that’s it.” louis shakes above him, and nick can’t help it, he’s been so hot. the record has stopped and nick hasn't noticed it. he rubs louis’ back comfortingly and turns the mic on, manages some nonsense talk and then plays some obnoxious hip hop song. while he’s fiddling with the system, louis’ mouth is on nick’s neck, his shoulder, biting. his hips roll back and forth, tight little movements. nick almost gasps into the mic before he can turn it off and cast it aside.

he licks back into louis’ mouth, masking louis’ little noises. he’s still shaking, but it’s getting less pronounced the more he grinds into nick. nick’s pants are wet, but louis’ are soaked, and the wetness between them feels better, like some of the material has thinned and he can feel louis’ dick more properly rutting against him.

louis keeps going, faster and faster, fists tightening on nick’s shirt, gasping. nick is so turned on he almost sees stars, hasn't even checked in what feels like decades if fincham is paying attention or not. he comes just after louis does, above him shaking again, legs twitching in nick’s lap.

nick runs his hands across louis’ thighs, smirking. “you like pet names during sex, yeah?”

louis recovers from his orgasm and snarls again, going almost immediately back to his old attitude. “shut the fuck up. i’m all wet.”

nick laughs so hard into the mic when he turns it back on he’s sure half of london will here.

-

later that day nick is running errands when he comes back into the office, carting in cups of coffee as a treat for the staff who've showed up that day when he sees finchy staring at him strangely, sitting down at the table in the kitchen.

“are you wearing different trousers?” he asks, looking over nick oddly. “you definitely weren't wearing  _purple_  earlier.”

“um,” nick begins, “i spilt a bit of my morning tea on myself.” he walks over to the kitchen sink and sets down the coffee cups, keeping his back to finchy.

“who was that i saw in the studio with you this morning?”

nick whips around, raising his eyebrows. “oh, just a friend. came to bring me a breakfast sandwich.”

fincy nods. “it was harry, wasn't it? surprised the security team didn't go wild.”

nick chokes on his coffee, some dribbling onto his tee shirt. “oh, yes. it was harry. the office was a bit quieter today, wasn't it?”

he walks himself backwards out of the kitchen like he’s expecting to be further interrogated  he’s immensely thankful it was so empty in the office that day, would have been horrible walking past all of those desks with a wet patch on his jeans had they been full of staff members.

he saw louis out after the breakfast show, the poor guy leaving the studio with one of nick’s old jumpers tied around his waist to cover up his soiled trousers. nick had liked the look of louis with his small waist holding up his old jumper. there’s a reason, at least, to see him again. 


End file.
